Of Texts and Hey! Where's the Milk Gone!
by TYRider
Summary: This is one part of a two-part story. What could be more annoying than a bored Sherlock? John's POV. Quick humor piece, no slash, written with Sherley Holmes.


**A/N: This is John's POV. ****Once you're done here be sure and go read Sherlock's perspective by Sherley Holmes, the Sherlock to my John. Again, we didn't compare until the very last, and Reviews are very much encouraged :) Did I mention Sherley is a lot like Sherlock? BRILLIANT! Smart, creative and snarky! And then there's me, John: Doesn't make friends easily, quiet and with an affinity for firearms. ;) ****Also, I forgot in the last one to give acknowledgements to Rukushaka, our proofreader and Mycroft/Moriarty counterpart (she was My, but she makes a creepily fantastic Jim).** Reading order doesn't matter.  
I own nothing, but the story itself. John, Sherlock, et all belong to ACD and BBC.

John heard the characteristic rattle of a can of spray paint. _Not again. _He thought with a dismal look at the contents (or lack there of rather) of their fridge. He closed the fridge with a pained sigh and sent a text to Sherlock instead.

_Leave the wall alone, Sherlock. One smiley face is more than enough. Also, we're out of milk. Again. How? ~JW_

The rattling in the living room paused and soon after his phone buzzed in his hand.

_Milk? How should I know? - SH_

What had he been doing with the stuff?

_Only two people live in this flat. You and me. I've not been using a pint of milk a day. That leaves you. What have you been doing with it? ~JW_

Whatever he's been doing with the milk must be bad. Really, really bad. Sherlock loves to prattle on about his experiments—unless they've ended in some kind of embarrassing failure or property damage. Yes, most definitely must be bad if he'd rather lie to John then brag about it. John didn't much like the prospect.

New message:

_Honestly, John, I don't know what you're on about. Ask Mrs. H. - SH_

"Honestly" was a very suspect word, nearly dirty. No, Sherlock was most certainly not being honest. Mrs. Hudson rarely borrowed foodstuffs from them—actually she never did. John really couldn't blame her, the contents of their kitchen ranged from gross and disturbing to hazardous to your health.

_Mrs. Hudson NEVER borrows food from us. She won't even open the fridge since the incident with the toes in the custard. ~JW_

There was a long pause and the flat was quiet. John leaned back against the counter.

_Bored. - SH_

John replied with the first thought that popped into his head.

_Heaven help us. ~JW_

John was sincere.

More buzzing. John glared at it, but read the message anyway.

_Where are you? - SH_

Of course, a nonsequitur. John had to suppress a wry chuckle as a mental image of he Sherlock playing hide and seek flitted through his mind. John would win without trying.

_Not this again. Deduce it why don't you? Hint: I'm in the flat. ~JW_

John started sneaking off to his room, trying not to betray his location. Judging by the next text it seemed to have worked.

_Thought you'd gone out. Call Lestrade. Need a case. - SH_

Seriously? Sometimes Sherlock could be plain clueless. John decided to humor him though—he had left the wall alone after all. John sat on his bed and tapped out a reply.

_You're off your game today. I think four nicotine patches is one too many—fogging up that great brain of yours. I'll call Greg. No promises. ~JW_

John called Lestrade.

"Hullo?" The DI answered the phone.

"Hey, it's John."

"Oh, hey John." Lestrade said warily, on his gaurd.

"He's bored. Got anything on that he might like?" John asked feeling silly for some reason.

"Um, nothing particularly puzzling or disturbing at the mo."

"I'm not sure if I should be glad or disappointed." John quipped.

Lestrade chuckled. "I'll see if I can dig something up in the cold cases and give you a ring in a little while, yeah?"

"Thanks."

John hung up and found two new messages waiting.

_Fine. - SH_

_Called him yet? - SH_

Sherlock could be an impatient git, John wasn't inclined to be offended today so he just sent a nice reply—that should cheer him up some. Cold cases could be fun.

_Talked to Lestrade, no interesting new cases, but he promised to look through the cold cases and call me back. ~JW_

John had just settled back against his head board with a novel in his hands when a familiar BANG! broke the quiet of the flat. John growled. "Insufferable—" he mumbled, fumbling with his phone.

_DULL. - SH_

_Let's go out. - SH_

John was halfway down the stairs before he sent his text, cuddly doctor persona forgotten. It was Captain Watson marching down to retrieve his pilfered gun. No one touched his Browning.

_Drop my gun or I WILL hurt you. This is one of those "subtext is shouting rather loudly" moments. DON'T tempt me. ~Captain JW_

John paused on the stairs to read a new message.

_Let's go get sweets. - SH_

Bribery. Tricky, tricky Sherlock. John wasn't fooled, but he was slightly softened—and it helped that there hadn't been any additional gunshots. He sighed and his lips twitched into a bemused smile.

_I see through your attempted bribery, but I could go for a scoop of ice-creme. Hand over my Browning FIRST, then we'll go. ~JW_


End file.
